Shovel Knight: Height of Power
by Boom1011
Summary: The Order of no Quarter and their rivals were hailed as the strongest warriors in the land. But what if their abilities were taken to the extreme? Rated T for action, mention of death and very minor gore.


**Hello readers. This is the first piece I've ever published. I recently got Shovel Knight: Treasure Trove on Switch and immediately fell in love with it. I've finished all three campaigns now and while I was playing I started thinking about the knights and the theoretical extents of their abilities. After having a few ideas pop into my head for Spectre Knight a fight scene incorporating those ideas came into my head. Remembering that the extent of my animation skill was a stick man crudely jumping I instead decided to write it out (Although Shovel Knight's gets published first.) but in the end this is really just an exercise to help with my descriptive writing. I don't have a Beta so if there are any mistakes I do apologize in advance. And so in no particular order (except King Knight will probably be last because i want to play his campaign before I do anything with him) here are the warriors of Shovel Knight at the height of their power!**

Shovel Knight

The undead were rising. Every so often a large group of skeletons rose from the ground, seeking to devour the living. As a champion of Pridemoor this was something the Blue Burrower could not ignore. And so he sat on the outskirts of the Village, instead of at home with his beloved Shield Knight, waiting for the inevitable attack. The undead had massed that evening and he had been called up to help safeguard the village. It was only the long time he had spent training under the stalwart Polar Knight that had given him the discipline to not shiver the horns off of his helmet. Despite that he was still cold with nothing but the embers of his earlier fire to keep him warm.

'Another reminder' he thought mirthlessly, 'of my failure to protect her. I go into that d _amned tower_ to save her and in the end she still saves me. Instead of her keeping the flames alive as she always did she's stuck at the farm, nursing a broken arm she got for me. Not a great treasure or a vanquished foe but for foolish me.'

Before he could continue his self-depricating rant the tell-tale sounds of clacking bones began to emerge from the forests. Already he could hear his fellow defenders sound the alarm and see the signal lamps set ablaze. With ease born from years of training and experience he hefted his mighty shovel from it's resting place next to him. The familiar weight settled comfortably into his arms as he steeled his nerves against his now visible foe.

There was no order to them. The undead horde simply marched closer in a twisted parody of the soldiers who stood against them. Most had no weapons to speak of, wielding only their long decayed fists and jaws against the tempered steel of the villages guards. The mass of undead could usually be dealt with by him alone, or the village knights, but the sight of familiar blades amongst the undead gave him a stark reminder of the fate of those who stood against them alone. And so he steeled his shovel, ready to descend upon them.

The first arrow struck its mark as the knights advanced to their defences, shields up and swords drawn. Slowly but surely the amount of arrows soaring through the air increased until every archer had opened fire on the skeletons. Nearly every arrow struck one of the undead but unless it managed to hit the spine or a joint with enough force to overcome the magics holding them together it had little effect.

Soon the horde made contact with the first line. The knights each stood inbetween stakes that had been fixed in the ground with just enough room to swing their blades. Four knights, however, gathered just behind the centre of the line instead. This team, lead by Shovel Knight himself, was meant to strike at the biggest groups of skeletons to lighten the load on the thinly spread defenders. Soon the signal was given as the left flank had turned their flame blue, calling for aid.

"Onward!" cried Shovel Knight, doing his best to be heard over the din of the battle. Thankfully he had been heard as his comrades quickly made their way toward the signal. Already he could hear the skeletons bones striking steel. The cries of the defenders were drowned out by the sound but they held firm. Without warning Shovel Knight leapt over the barricade sounding his mighty warhorn, blasting his foes away with his mighty cry alone.

The battle was joined.

His shovel became nearly invisible as it struck monster after monster. Skeleton after skeleton came forward only to be immediately returned to dust, leaving only the tattered remains of cloth and the money to pay the Captain of the Yacht for a ticket. Soon even their simple instincts made them wary of this one warrior who was thinning them out with ease. All burden seemed to melt away from his mind and body alike as he blurred into a blue mass that simply made those undead near him fall.

Fire began spilling out as he brandished the fire rod in his off hand, relying on momentum to keep his main weapon going. Only the most resilient of undead could be near him for more than a second before melting away into nothingness and even then they could not get close enough to strike him.

Soon he was forced to stop to regain his bearings, giving the skeletons time to strike. Thankfully the group had been reduced enough that the defenders could hold them back themselves. Shovel Knight quickly made his way back to the line, sending out a couple of chaos spheres as he went, to prevent himself getting overwhelmed like so many others who had been caught out. He didn't let this stop him contributing though, as he quickly materialized a throwing anchor in his hand and threw it with enough accuracy and force to demolish an undead with ease.

This was repeated throughout the night as they held out against the relentless onslaught of the undead. Every so often a new flame would turn blue, calling out for aid, and every time Shovel Knight and his group responded. Countless undead were slain by these four alone, the rest taken care of by the other knights. As the night reached its end the once endless flood had slowed to a trickle, giving those who manned the defences a chance to calm themselves.

Then a flame turned red.

Pandemonium errupted among the line as that signal meant a Super Skeleton had emerged. Immediately Shovel Knight threw back his last ichor of renewal as he materialised a mobile cog to ride upon. The contraption allowed him to move at speeds unobtainable by others without the aid of a mount. His advance was quickly followed up by his group surrounding the Super Skeleton to keep its allies away from it. Shovel Knight sprung from the gear as it collided with his foe before gripping his shovel and pointing it down to use his signature pogo technique.

Three bounces later the beast wised up to it's opponents tactics as it raised its dagger above it's head to counter his next drop. Unfortunately for it, he had already moved to it's side and dropped to head level. This was quickly followed up by him pulling out a propeller dagger to fly into its face, knocking it down into a pile of bones as he dropped a dust knuckle enhanced punch into it's neck. Thankfully all who were near it had enough experience to tell it would pull itself together again. Unfortunately it happened much quicker than expected so Shovel Knight was lifted of the ground, the cries of his fellow fighters ignored by the monster.

Once again he regretted returning the phase locket to Spectre Knight, even if it had such value to him that he offered every bit of gold he had for it, while begging on his knees. With only one arm partially free and his weapon on the ground he quickly pulled up the one relic that he could use while positioned above his foe.

The fishing rod.

Without looking he loosed the heavy hook upon the monster. Somehow it's skull managed to look smug when it sailed past it's head and down its back. Said perceived smugness was lost when the automatic reel pulled the hook up and it's head along with it, decapitating it with one fell swoop.

The defenders where quickly surrounding him, keeping the skeletons away while one of the magicist's potions was pushed into his hand. Muttering a quick thanks he took it and drank it up, feeling the energy return to his limbs. The sun rose and what few monsters remained disappeared as soon as the light touched them.

It was still the early hours of dawn when he returned to his little farm. Opening the door as quietly as he could he immediately felt his heart lighten upon seeing Shield Knight sleeping on her seat by the fireplace. Two plates sat upon the table. One was empty apart from some crumbs while another held half a pie upon it, chicken by the look of it. He chuckled to himself quietly as he silently removed his helmet and gave her a peck on the forehead as he turned to place his armour away.

'I specifically mentioned I would be gone all night and you still baked some of my favourite for me' he thought, a small smile sneaking it's way upon his usually stoic face. 'How could you be so loyal to the one who abandoned you' The smile left his face after that unpleasant thought resurfaced, without battle or the thought of home to suppress it.

'Enough of that' he reminded himself, putting on his night clothes. 'If she wishes to stay with me then I shall do all I can to be worthy of such devotion.' His promise reaffirmed he left the bedroom and returned to the front room, sitting down on his own chair opposite Shield Knight. His eyelids began to grow heavy as his long repressed desire to sleep was finally allowed to take him.

His dream was a common one. Waves of foes came at him which he fought off with all his might until Shield Knight fell from the sky. As he leapt to catch her he woke up as always just before he caught her. This time however, upon waking up, he felt a familiar weight upon his side. Turning his head slowly he saw the woman of his dreams had moved next to him, leaning her good side against him. A cursory look outside told him ot was near midday and that he should be up and doing his chores, yet his very essence protested the idea of moving.

"i'll follow you to the end of the world" he whispered fondly letting his head fall towards hers, silently adding 'But if you wish for me to stay here then who am I to deny you' snuggling deeper into her side.

"I know" was the half coherent response he got, causing him to tense up. When she failed to awaken he slowly let out the breath he had held. With all the previous night's thoughts gone from his mind all he could do before letting sleep claim him once more was say one last "I love you". He didn't hear a response but the smile on her face was all he needed to see.

This time, he dreamt of a bright campfire in the middle of the woods.

 **Thanks to everyone who took the tine out of their day to read this little project of mine. I once again apologize for any errors, grammatical or spelling, and hope any you did find didn't detract from your reading experience. If you find any don't be afraid to tell me so I may correct it. Any critique is welcome so if you have honest criticism it will hopefully allow me to grow as a writer while flames shall make great comedic material, so review away!** **I don't have** **a date for the next chapter but I'll try and get it out before the end of May. But if any of you want a sneak peak here's a quick excerpt.**

 **01/05/18 edit: minor grammar fixes amd spelling check.** **Thanks to oRpheusB20 for pointing one out.**

Spectre Knight hated the undead. A seemingly paradoxical mindset to all who knew of it, his own use of seemingly undead troops making him appear quite the hypcrite in that regard. However to him the difference between his soulless constructs and true undead such as himself was clear. One was no more sentient than a rock or was a simple approximation of a soul forged by _his_ power, the other a rightfully dead soul ripped from eternal slumber to serve a monster.

The rise in undead attacks told him all he needed to know of the foul magics at work. The very land recoiled from the source, which allowed him it trace it easily. As he sat on his perch overlooking the camp of necromancers he felt the darkness beneath his armour increase in intensity from both his emotions and the amount of dark energy around.

'These fools know nothing of the powers they play with' Spectre Knight thought bitterly, watching to find the best time to attack. 'No matter now I suppose. Whether by my hand or their own they will die soon. I'll simply speed up the the process.' With nothing more to do he prepared to strike with one last thought

'The Reaper Cometh.'


End file.
